Part of Seth longed to run after her, take her in his arms, and tell her that he’d do whatever was necessary to make things right between them. But he didn’t. He couldn’t, because that would mean he’d have to give her something he wasn’t ready to relinquish: his grief. He was perfectly content to live with a foot in both worlds; the land of the living and the valley of death. Content to hold on to both women, refusing to release one and give his heart to another.
Fine. If that was what it took, then so be it. He’d loved Pamela first. She was his wife, the mother of his children. His heart. Now she was gone, and giving up the piano was his testimonial to their love.
Reba had made it sound as though he were a candidate for therapy. It’d angered him, and rightly so. She had no room to talk. None whatsoever.
It was over. She’d said as much on her way out the door. That was the way he wanted it.
“Excuse me,” Emily muttered, standing in the middle of her kitchen, and raised her expectant eyes heavenward. “Is anyone listening up there?…Anyone?…” She didn’t anticipate a response, but she would have appreciated one. “We’ve got trouble down here. Real trouble, and I’m not talking about the gelatin not setting in my salad recipe, either.”
She reached for the wooden spoon and, tucking the bowl under her arm, whipped the cake batter with frenzied effort. There’d be high-tide warnings in Arizona before she’d agree to use an electric mixer. One didn’t get the feel of batter or gauge consistency with any newfangled machine.
“In case no one’s noticed, there’s been a major screw-up here,” she said. “Reba just walked out the door, and it doesn’t look to me like there’s going to be a piano player for the Christmas program, either.” She expelled her breath heavily. “There’s only so much one person can do.” Once again she glanced heavenward. “Housekeeping and cooking are one thing, but sorting out people’s lives, well, that’s an area I prefer to leave to the experts.”
The so-called experts seemed to be on coffee break. Wouldn’t you know it! She was going to be left to deal with this mess on her own, and by heaven, someone was going to hear about it.
“I don’t like this one bit,” she muttered, setting the bowl back on the kitchen counter with a bang. “I don’t play the piano,” she reminded the powers above, “so don’t expect me to step in and rescue the day.” She clamped her mouth closed. “You might have given me some warning, you know!”
Spraying the cake pans, she glanced toward the other room and caught a glimpse of Sharon. “I’m not entirely pleased with what’s happening with the Palmers, either. Not one bit. Forty years down the tubes. Something’s got to be done, I say, and fast before it’s too late. What’s going on up there, anyway?” She wiped her hands on a fresh towel from the drawer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the entire heavenly realm was out to choir practice.”
It seemed to her that what heaven really needed was a wake-up call. Well, she was just the one to give it!
Harriett Foster had rarely been more miserable. Her jaw was wired closed and her left arm sported a thick white cast. Her niece had spent the better part of an hour with her, but Jayne had family and other commitments and couldn’t be expected to hang around the hospital with a sick old woman.
This certainly wasn’t the way Harriett had intended to spend the holidays. Now she’d miss the Christmas program, and Reba would be left to find a last minute replacement for the piano. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander over a list of possibilities. It would be tough finding someone, almost impossible. She was irreplaceable and knew it. The entire Christmas Eve program would need to be canceled.
“All things are possible with God.”
Harriett’s eyes flew open. She looked around to see who’d spoken, but no one was there. It was the medication, she decided. She was hearing voices. She’d heard others speak of such matters, and she’d scoffed, but this was very real, drugs or no drugs.
“Trust.”
This time her eyes were wide open, and it most definitely was a voice. One loud and clear. Precise. There could be no dismissing it.
Next time I won’t be so quick to judge others claiming to hear voices, she thought.
“Exactly my point—don’t be so quick to judge others.”
Although it caused her considerable discomfort, Harriett twisted her head to look about a second time. It was uncanny, as if someone were standing in the room, reading and commenting on her thoughts. Someone who—“Here you are.” The hospital door banged open and Emily Merkle sauntered into the room. “My oh my, you’ve gotten yourself into a fine mess, haven’t you?”